


The Show Must Go On

by makingtriangles (electricbloo)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Dirk is just a tad creepy, Exhibitionism, Kink, M/M, Victorianstuck, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricbloo/pseuds/makingtriangles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk wants to introduce Jake to some very special friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Show Must Go On

**Author's Note:**

> From a little AU I have bouncing around in my head. The below drabble and [this drawing](http://makingtriangles.tumblr.com/post/23067794530/) are probably all I'm going to do for it. :]

Warm light suddenly flickers over the rich wood flooring, over two heavy cushioned benches, up to the thick velvet drapes enclosing what looks to be a small stage. It is, perhaps, nine feet long and six feet high, and the proscenium arch is beautifully carved into a landscape, moving left-to-right over a city, a forest, down to an endless sea.

Dirk is looking almost...expectantly at you, a small, defiant set to the line of his mouth. He leans against the doorframe in a pose carefully designed to seem careless, to seem apathetic. You feel suddenly shy, blood rushing to your face when it occurs to you that, whatever this is, it's _important_ , and that Dirk is showing it to _you_.

"What is this place?" you ask, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. The space between you is electrically charged, and when Dirk puts a hand to your back to usher you inside it sparks, warmth rushing over your skin.

Dirk only quirks a small smile in response. He leads you through the room to a concealed door in the woodwork just to the right of the stage, and you follow him down a narrow hallway into a backstage room. There is a small staircase against one of the walls, disappearing up into the space above the stage, you guess. The rest of the room is filled with puppets.

You look around in awe. Some of them are extraordinarily lifelike, others crude caricatures, but all are around two or three feet high. There must be forty or fifty of them, at least. They hang in rows on wooden beams that span the length of the room, meticulously placed apart, so that no strings will become knotted or tangled. You realize you've been holding your breath; you let it out, shakily.

"These are all...yours?" you ask, stupidly. "They're really quite marvelous."

Dirk's eyes widen the tiniest fraction, then flick down to the floor, almost shy. His hand comes up, and curls lightly at your waist. "You think so?"

"Yes," you answer vehemently, leaning closer, and Dirk is suddenly kissing you, hard, hands on either side of your face, tangling in your hair. His breath is hot and uneven, and you can feel his erection against your hip when you pull his body close.

Dirk pulls away, panting, eyes wild, and drops to his knees, tugging desperately at the fastenings of your trousers. You bite back a moan, helping him pull them down over your hips, and his lips are on your cock, sucking insistently at the underside, squeezing at the base. You let out a shuddering breath, hands twisting reverently in his hair.

After a moment he directs you to the bench alongside you, and you sink gratefully down onto it. Dirk follows you on his knees, arms going around your hips as he sucks you into his mouth. Oh, goodness gracious, oh...

Then his lips are gone, replaced by his hands, and he stares up at you, emotions unguarded for a few, breathless seconds before his eyes drop. You bite back a moan at the motion of his hands, slumping back against the wall.

"I was almost always alone, as I was growing up," Dirk says, tongue darting out to moisten his lips, eyes trained on your cock. You feel heat rush over you at being regarded so intimately, and you gasp out a small "yes," cupping Dirk's cheek in your palm. So were you. Oh, god, so were you. He leans into your touch, eyes dropping closed. "My parents were dead. My brother never had the time, and, I must admit, I always did my best to frighten off governesses and tutors."

His hands slow, leaving your cock completely to rub at your thighs, pushing them wide. He begins to unbutton your shirt, letting it drop open, and pushes your undershirt up over your stomach. "But I had my puppets."

You nod, fingers buried feverishly in Dirk's hair. His eyes are still fixed on your erection, red and swollen against your stomach, and you've never done anything like this before; all your experimentation so far with Dirk has been hurried, secretive, and clothed. You've never had anyone look at you this way, like you mean something...You let out a desperate whine, and Dirk runs a cool fingertip up the underside of your cock, his chest heaving.

"I spent a lot of time in here," Dirk continues, his fingertip rubbing small, teasing circles, gathering precum, slick and insistent and maddening. "Sometimes I would touch myself, and let them watch." His breath is more uneven than ever, color rising sharply to his cheeks. "I...love...to let them watch."

The image flashes crystal-clear into your mind's eye, of Dirk bent over this bench, spread wide, working three fingers into himself, panting and moaning with need and you flush darker, letting your head fall to the side. You feel their eyes on you, suddenly, and your cock twitches -- all those eyes, _looking_ at you, knowing you're _Dirk's_...

"I wanted them to see you," Dirk says, his voice thick with emotion, and your heart feels too big, suddenly, too bright and too hot and too desperate. Dirk sucks you down again, and you arch, letting out a strangled moan.

You do have a show to put on, after all.


End file.
